I Hate Everything About You: PewDieCry One-Shot
by BeautysHarlequin
Summary: Rated T for strong BROmance (ie. mature themes) and frequent cussing. When Cry arrives home not in the best of moods, he has his lover Pewds to look forward to... Or maybe not. A highly descriptive read, a one-shot inspired by Three Days Grace. (PewDiePie X Cryaotic) My seventh fanfiction. Reviews are appreciated and heeded. (SMUTTY SEQUEL MAY BE WRITTEN IF STORY IS RECEIVED WELL)


**I Hate Everything About You**

_A/N: Don't ask._

_This should suffice for those who beg for more romantic action in My Obsession, but most likely won't get it just yet (because of the way I do Cry, I'm sorry). This is also a thank-you for the amount of favourites, follows, views and reviews MO has gotten._

_Also, I never planned for this fan-fiction to happen. This should be Pathogen in the works, but it's not. Because I have far too many ideas and a limited attention span. Again, I'm sorry._

_That said, this one-shot consists only of the matter that happens to compose a teenage girl's mind, and the plot-line and majority of the content is as real as fan-fiction becoming a possible school subject. _

_Which will never happen, believe me._

_I surprise myself, though. This is a borderline lemon. But it still isn't a lemon._

_**So I tell you what, give me 50 favourites, 50 follows **__**OR**__** 50 reviews on this, and I'll make this a lemon in the form of a second chapter. Good luck with that, lol.**_

_Enjoy yourself (and I hope you will)._

There was a faint clicking as the door to a certain shared apartment swung someway open, and accompanied by the cold evening's air, in stepped a familiar russet-haired individual. He shut the door firmly, perhaps even a little carelessly behind him, the hardwood fastening with a loud bang in response. An overwrought sort of silence assumed as his attention gradually rose from the ashen-hued tiles to recognize the person standing nothing but a few meters in front of him, waiting, his arms crossed, posture tense, eyebrows narrowed. A million angry questions strained his expression, but most amusing was how the brunet received his blatant frustration with nothing but a little indifference…

For the moment limpid blue met electric blue, a fiery war between personalities had begun.

"Cry."

"Pewdie."

No 'hello', or 'welcome back', or 'I missed you'.

In the following minutes in which bitter silence had recommenced, Cry sauntered past his roommate and made directly for the kitchen, well aware of the footsteps that shadowed him closely. Dropping his shoulder bag by the counter, he yawned as he advanced on the fridge and yanked it open to scan its insides. It wasn't difficult to recognize the loud scuffing sound made as his bag was kicked aside in PewDie's terse approach, but Cry hardly reacted, reaching inside the brilliant light and withdrawing a bottle of Coke. Satisfied, he shut the door and leant back against it, making sure to take his time in enjoying a few good swigs before bothering to meet the blond's gaze again. Most apparently, Cry would pretend to be unaware of PewDie's frustration even if it killed him. His eventual response was nonchalant, the very voice of peachy-

"'Sup?"

And his boyfriend really didn't expect any more from him.

"You're home late."

Cry levelled his stare with PewDie's, whom leant back restlessly against the metal counter top, fingers rapping against the narrow rim of it. The brunet paused before taking another drink, offering the slight tilt of his shoulders.

"Yeah, I know."

"I hate it when you come home late. I worry about you."

Cry rolled his eyes, capping the half-empty bottle before pivoting with an unbothered kind of slowness to store it away. With his back to the blond, he levered the door open and searched for something to follow up on his Coke. "You worry far too much... It pisses me off really," Cry sighed, words characteristically aloof. He let his fingertips trail over the numerous jars and air-tight containers, his appetite slack. "I hate how you overdo it. I'm not dead now, am I?"

"You could have been," Cry didn't hear him move, but he knew PewDie was standing behind him now. His cobalt gaze flitted sideways for a moment, before returning to the contents of the fridge. The guy was born a fucking Slenderman. "And I wouldn't have known about it either."

The brunet straightened a little at PewDie's last statement, his voice adopting a blasé but derisive tone. His eyes didn't leave the racks of the fridge once, but a smirk twitched at the corners of his mouth. "Let me tell you something, Pewds... People have invented an amazing device- they call it the mobile phone," Cry rolled his shoulders, his search bringing him no food of particular interest. Waiving the idea of something to eat, he backed up a little, shutting the door and turning again to the meet the icy blue gaze of his roommate. "You use it to communicate with people over long distance... Ever heard of it before? ...Maybe in passing?"

Despite being backed up against the cold door of the fridge, Cry maintained his indifference, knowing persistence alone could win this. PewDie did look sincerely annoyed though, enough that it seemed that the brunet's current sardonic nature may have gotten him nowhere...

"You know what else I hate about you? You're far too careless," Cry hesitated as his boyfriend lifted a hand, a crude black sketch of a 'Sup?-face familiar to that of his iPhone cover glinting back at him. Cry reached for it with some apprehension, but PewDie knocked away his hand and pressed him up against the fridge door. He could feel the chill creep into the back of his shirt as he was glared at. "You left it on the counter this morning. And you don't want me to worry when you return home hours later than you said you would?"

Cry narrowed his eyes, snatching his phone away from the taller man's grasp and ducking under the muscular arms that threatened to trap him. "Well, thank-you for finding it. I was wondering where it went," Tucking the device into the back pocket of his skinnies, the brunet made for their bedroom, snide remarks flitting quickly from his tongue when he saw PewDie made to follow him. "Besides, I'm still very much alive," He vaguely noted the blond shut the door behind them, shrugging off his jacket to the side and inspecting his form in the body length mirror as he spoke. "It gets annoying sometimes, when you want to know what I'm doing, where I am, who I'm with all the time..." Cry paused, the thick drawl leaving him as he tilted his head to stare at PewDie with some disdain. "I hate it, in fact. It's really annoying."

"Oh?"

Cry knew he had hit a nerve when his boyfriend spoke in that tone, a dark, irritated fashion that didn't complement the blond's usual happy-go-lucky nature very well. He pretended that he didn't care, pretended that he didn't feel that dangerous thrill when the other man came up behind him, taking Cry's hips in hands that were precariously feather-light. The brunet narrowed his eyes at their reflection, PewDie settling his head to the right side of his face so every breath was a tempting caress along pale skin, and so that his stubbled chin brushed gently against Cry's ear with every word he spoke.

"I worry too much, do I? Tell me, then... What little friends of yours were we with today, love?"

Cry sighed, unable to meet the crystalline eyes that stared back at him in his reflection. With every inhale he also drew in PewDie's sickly sweet breath, and he just couldn't help but feel the man was much like a narcotic in such close proximity, attempting to fume him with a treacherous sort of enticement that chilled him body and soul.

"I was with Russ, and Red," He soon brought himself to respond, rolling his head to avoid the blond's whispery breath. "Jund was there, and so was Snake..." Cry trailed off, giving a half-shrug and wriggling his hips lightly in the hopes that Pewds would let him go. He didn't.

"And...?"

Cry blinked as if not understanding, eyes averted towards the ceiling and his voice clipped. "And what?"

"And who else was there with you?"

"No-one else really... Just Nova, and..." After an almost painful pause, Cry exhaled loudly, finally giving in to the expected and meeting Pewds' unrelenting stare with some reluctance. "Okay, and maybe Sp00n."

That was the one name that PewDie needed to hear, and his grip on Cry immediately tightened at the mention of said person. A false kind of amusement deepened his voice, a curl to his words that suggested harboured feelings of possessiveness. "Oh yes, the horse with the crush on you, of course... I thought there might have been a bit of bad company about. That's not the smell of my cologne, that's for sure."

Cry rolled his eyes, not bothering to avoid the nip to the neck he'd earned and instead attempting to justify himself. "It's not like that. We had just gotten together to hang out for a bit. Stop worrying, Pewds..."

The brunet couldn't help but shiver at the throaty chuckle at his ear, coursing its way down the back of his neck, probing at his spine. "You want me to stop worrying about you after you confess to have come home late from hanging around with a bunch of people I admittedly don't trust? You're kidding me, right?" Placing a gentler kiss at his neck, PewDie lifted his head and manoeuvred Cry so that he faced him, pushing him forward so they were up against the mirror. Cry refrained from reacting, enduring his every advance and instead trying to focus on the matter at hand. Hard to do when your lover was centimetres away, his warmth encasing you, his smouldering sapphire eyes trained on intently on yours, his words deep, warm, but nevertheless, borderline malevolent.

"Must I speak of how much I hate your choice in friendship? Really now, I could go on for days..."

"Don't throw them all into the same boat, PewDie. You just don't like Sp00n, which I can understand considering the guy can be a little forceful at times, but they're still my friends. Besides," Cry raised his arms, linking them around his boyfriend's waist and pulling him up against him. The Swede conformed to the action, allowing their bodies to merge perfectly parallel to each other. "...maybe if you had a little more fashion sense..." Cry smirked against PewDie's chin, dropping his hands to the blond's ass and earning the slight raise of his brows. "...you could hang around with us more often, and keep an eye on me in turn. But you won't do that now, will you?"

PewDie narrowed his eyes, his tone suddenly accusatory. "What's wrong with my fashion sense? What's wrong with my Chinos?" He took Cry's crude gesture as a mockery towards the beige jeans he was wearing, eager to know what it was that could make them so off-putting.

"Everything's wrong with them," Cry mused, eventually letting his hands wander upwards again. "I hate their style, their colour, their everything. I would never tap that ass while it's wearing those Chinos."

PewDie laughed, involuntarily causing Cry's grin to grow in turn. "Oh, I think you've mixed up who's doing the tapping, love," He brought his head closer to the brunet's, catching his soft, pink lower lip between his incisors and gently pulling back, grazing the flesh as it came away. "_I'm_ the one who does all the tapping around here, aren't I?" He lowered his head again with a laugh, resting his chin on Cry's shoulder and turning his face into the warmth to tease the tender, pale skin there.

"That might be true," Cry admitted, suppressing a sigh of pleasure as his neck was assaulted with a variety of kisses. His gaze idly pinpointed on the computer monitor by their desk, his attention entirely lost to his lover. "But it doesn't change the fact that Chinos suck."

PewDie hummed in disagreement, the low-tuned noise sending tremors about the surface of Cry's neck. His kisses were broken by short statements that settled over flushed skin, husky words that crept towards Cry's ears. "You're complaining about my fashion sense... Do you remember when you used to wear that mask, Cry...? It was awful... You wouldn't go a day without it..." He huffed, the warm, whispery sensation causing Cry to pull on the back of his shirt in its intensity. "D'you even know how hard it was for me to kiss you with it on? Lifting it up, keeping it in place... all without revealing your features. I hated that mask so much..."

"Well, excuse me, sir, but I loved that mask," Cry mumbled then, slightly offended. He uttered a quiet moan when Pewds grazed a canine over what he presumed was his sweet spot, taking a measured breath to speak again. "It meant a lot to me, you know. The only reason I took it off was because you convinced me to, so..." Regaining a little of his animosity towards their situation, Cry raised a hand and nudged PewDie away from his neck, meeting his questioning gaze with a few slow blinks. "Shouldn't you be more grateful to me as your boyfriend?"

PewDie huffed in some incredulity, obviously deterred by the question but far too much enticed to care for the brunet's egotism. Raising his right hand to cup Cry's angular face, he tipped his head forward and fluttered his eyelids gently, closing the short distance between them and pressing his lips to his. Cry instantly melted into the encounter, a most familiar and fast-paced touch setting his heart beating wildly against PewDie's chest. Their open mouths were warm, on fire, a notable roughness existing in the way their breathing parried in exchange. Their frustration towards each other was dealt over a heated make-out session, similar to a fight for dominance but more of a way to determine whom was right, just who was the more passionate individual of the two...

PewDie's hand wandered upwards over the mirror, eventually finding the back of Cry's neck and lacing his fingers through the longer locks of hair there. His eyes were half-lidded and pensive if not closed, and although he would never admit to it, he found it irresistible the way Cry kissed him back, the gentle noises made as their mouths slickened against one another, the sensation he experienced as their parted lips manoeuvred in response to questing and inquisitive tongues. Cry was just so tantalizing... He drew the blond in wholly, satiating his untamed lust in a way that almost set PewDie into an obedient silence, but it was his pride that kept him afloat. It irritated him when the American always got his way, often using his mordant attitude and the general attraction he caused his boyfriend to have for him to force PewDie to give in, and so he denied losing himself to euphoria entirely.

Sometimes he would even rob Cry of his pleasure if only to show him just who was more superior. It didn't always work out the way he liked, though.

PewDie slid the tip of his tongue over Cry's lower lip, a possible invitation that caused the male to willingly widen his jaw and tilt his head to deepen the kiss. The moment his tongue slipped into the blond's mouth though, PewDie bit lightly on it, pulling out much to the other's disappointment. "Pewds..." Cry groaned when the Swede moved teasingly back to his neck, smirk curving at his face as he held the brunet in place by his waist and neck, tipping his head backwards to expose as much skin as he liked.

"What's wrong, Cry...?" He breathed, kissing along his jugular, down towards his collarbone. "I'm... _appreciating_ you." He chuckled darkly, making Cry writhe under his lascivious touch. The brunet's hands slid upwards, gripping his lover's hair, torn between pulling him closer and tugging him away. The things Pewds did to him, really...

He glowered up at the ceiling from the angle his head had been set at, the feeling of soft, feathery locks of hair sweeping against his face spurring his annoyance onwards. "You know what else I hate about you?" He managed between light gasps, trying to ignore the fact that PewDie was persistently trying to catch his Adam's Apple between his teeth. "Your hair." Cry tugged at the other's mane as if to stress his point, but PewDie hardly reacted, far too busy sucking at and leaving hickeys upon his skin. The brunet wasn't about to give up though. "I hate blonds... _So much_. They turn me off."

PewDie broke away to laugh lightly then, leaning back to allow Cry to relax his neck a little while he humoured his complaint. "Oh, so you reckon I should go a few shades darker?" He mused, blue eyes glinting in satisfaction as he observed the angry red hue that bloomed over the skin he had been working on.

"Yeah," Cry crowed, dropping his hands to cover broad shoulders. "And get yourself a haircut while you're at it."

The blond tilted his head upwards to nip his boyfriend's chin in contempt before returning to his neck, attempting to eradicate any pale areas that did remain. "Well, you hate the colour of my hair..." PewDie nuzzled into his throat, following the action with a lengthy lick under his jaw-line. He breathed in deeply, intoxicating himself on overwhelming scents. "And I hate the way you smell."

It was Cry's turn to chortle this time, tilting his head backwards for only a moment. It was a moment the other took advantage of though, his mouth roaming upwards again in a search for his sweet spot. Despite his willingness to speak, PewDie knew Cry was getting restless; he could taste it in every lick and one-sided kiss, but he wasn't going to satiate him until he honestly felt like it. PewDie bit down onto the point where shoulder met neck, earning himself another moan, a little more strident but still not enough to shut Cry up.

"What... What do I smell like, hn?"  
PewDie's reply was simple, drawing his head back after a few seconds to look Cry steadily in the eye. "You smell like horse. Vanilla Coke, and horse."

"Are we seriously still on this?"

"I hate the smell of horse."

"PewDie..." Cry took the other man's face in his hands, gazing at him in silence. Blue amalgamated with blue, and the jealous Swede only very patiently waited for what he had to say, but Cry said absolutely nothing. His silence spoke loudly though, for in just holding his gaze PewDie could tell his lover was being sincere... His eyes, behind that sardonic nature, behind his indifferent, fiery persona, swore that he loved him, and PewDie believed it. As if to confirm such sentiment, the brunet leant forward and kissed him softly on the mouth, eyes fluttering shut once more. His neck burned as if tormented by the fires of Hell, but any aggravation he had experienced was forgotten as PewDie kissed him back, and they got lost in each other, hands wandering up the planes of their chests and backs, the return of those fervent, wet noises as their mouths merged, parted a millisecond and collided again mightily beguiling.

It was beautiful. It was so easy to lead the other astray, and they would most eagerly get lost together.

It didn't take long for the kiss to vary from tender to passionate, for as their motions became more frantic, each thought became increasingly erratic and focused only on the other. Pulling back from the mirror in the midst of it all, PewDie blindly lead them back towards the bed, falling down sideways to its length and dragging Cry on top of him. The brunet only just noticed their change of position, knees on either side of the blond's waist and his hands tangled in messy hair, mouth seemingly glued to his. The only time he would part was to breathe, but even then he would take those heated moments to deliver on PewDie what he had done to him, allowing his teeth to venture against tender skin to bite him passionately and cause those wistful gasps and groans he endeavoured to hear. His breathing was hard, heavy, but he pushed himself to keep talking, regardless of what was to happen.

"I... I also hate how you-" PewDie responded to a particularly sharp nip of Cry's with one of his own, tugging on his earlobe and catching his words in his throat. Cry struggled in inhaling enough air to speak, attempting to start again. It was becoming ridiculously hard now, with those scorching lips at his neck... The fire burned, and it was slowly, temptingly killing him... "I hate... the way you taste... it's so... I can't..." His mind grew cloudy, passion overruling sense and causing him to forget what he had been saying, a deep, deep groan emitting from his lips. What was it that he wanted to tell him? Or did it not matter, with this amazing, warm body jerking below him? Surely not...

PewDie mastered his incessantly strong urges with piqued curiosity, reluctantly pulling away from Cry's neck for a moment and holding his flushed face in place so he could to talk to him. A low whine was uttered in response to the loss of contact, and PewDie knew he was starting break the brunet down now, he could tell. The deprivation danced in Cry's eyes, a harboured lust that begged him to return his lips to his. PewDie was adamant though, far more patient in their arousing plight. "What taste is that, Cry?" He asked, gaze flitting from Cry's dynamic blue irises to the thin trail of saliva he was fiercely tempted to lick off of the American's chin.

The brunet didn't appear to understand, sweaty palms tangling needfully into sandy-bronze hair. "Wh...What?"

"What do I taste like...?"

Cry blinked slowly, taking a few moments to register the question before the tip of his tongue slid out to run tactfully over his lower lip, gaze one of absent concentration. "Cinnamon..." He replied after an excessively slow moment, his head dropping a little in anticipation. "You taste... like cinnamon."

PewDie considered this, not allowing them to return to their kissing before he thought it all through. Cry was getting impatient now, hands freeing themselves of hair to search his lover's body, fingers caressing the toned muscles of his arms and abdomen, an ardent growl resounding in his throat when PewDie still refused to respond to his lures. When he did react though, it was with dawning realisation, not the kind of response Cry had so desperately desired. "Wait... is _that_ why you hate it?"

"...What is it?" Cry managed to steady his gaze, looking Felix questioningly in the eye. The quicker he could satiate the inquisitive blond, the faster they could get back to kissing, after all...

"It's because of him, isn't it? It's because it reminds you of CinnamonToastK- Mmf!"

And that there was enough waiting on Cry's part.

Just the mention of PewDie's ex could do this much. With their mouths forcibly smashed back together, Cry's tongue consumed whatever space had previously occupied PewDie's mouth, leaving the Swede dumbstruck as to what was happening. He could taste him, sweet, thick, and foreign, stroking across the roof of his mouth, slipping along his gums, heavy and intoxicating and suffocating him with sempiternal desire. It was at this point where limits had little meaning, when nothing made sense but what the other could give them, and even so...

With all questions forgotten, PewDie lifted himself up with force, breaking their passionate frenching to shove Cry back onto the bed. By the time the brunet hit the pillow, the Swede had already taken the liberty of hovering over him, knees set between the other's. His words were brief and breathless now, carelessly thought as he dipped his head to meet his lover again. "I hate your voice."

Wrapping his arms around PewDie's neck, Cry pulled him downwards, relying on the blond to keep himself from crushing the man underneath him. They shared a shoddy kiss before Cry pulled away to lick the shell of PewDie's ear, reacting in just the way the Swede intended for him to... In that husky and yet overly mellifluous tone of his, joint with all the crude panting he was doing, the American crooned in his 'Cry Reads' voice-

"Is this better, Felix...?"

And it would be a lie to say that those four words didn't turn PewDie on so hard.

Just as so, Cry too made sure to keep at the scornful comments. It was far easier to think when PewDie was returning his zeal. He didn't have to worry so much, for they were both being slaked. He could distract himself with these trivial things. The moment he brought their mouths back together, Cry spoke again, swallowing PewDie's exhilarated breath and biting the swollen lips that pushed against his own. "I hate it when you kiss me... and when you... Ngh..." Struggling to speak whilst in contact with the fervent mouth that was very much occupying him, the brunet only just managed to choke out his following words. "When you touch me... Fuck, Pewds..."

His mouth seared with warmth and an acuminous stinging sensation, his skin was on fire, his body was alight, PewDie was everywhere, and his hands had begun to wander, drawing compelling shapes across his chest, his thighs, his eyelids, his back, his arms, his stomach... How could he do this to him, and so effortlessly too? Cry was lost, lost to a world of PewDie's making, and he loved it.

"I hate these shirts that you wear..." Fingers were being dragged down his button-up, he could hear each fastening popping off successfully, feel the relieving coolness as his chest was exposed to the air. That respite was short-lived though. Cry's heart throbbed hard, painfully almost as PewDie let his hand wander and trace patterns upon his pale skin. Whenever his hands would slip over the more sensitive regions of his torso, the brunet would hear himself groan, and feel his back arch upwards into his lover, pressing the lengths of their bodies impossibly together. He was there, but he wasn't there. This was utter bliss.

PewDie could feel how tightly Cry was holding on to him now, dragging him down and drowning him into the many sensations. At this point, he knew that should he ask Cry if he wanted to go further, the otherwise apathetic brunet would have enthusiastically agreed, if not begged for more. It was hard to say anything though, what with Cry's tongue deep inside his mouth once again, and that wonderful palette of glowing skin presented below him... So smooth, soft, marble-like, exquisite and mightily enticing... Every bit of him was chiselled to the eye's delight, and in PewDie's mind, perfect in its allure. With such a tempting body, Cry was asking for a phenomenal number of love-bites PewDie was most eager to give.

The Swede ran his the tips of his fingers down Cry's exposed sides, causing the man to shudder and let out some sort of strangled sound through his nose. Bare-skinned, he was so sensitive really... PewDie grinned, repeating the motion with feather-light hands, loving how the brunet jerked and writhed, distracting him from their kiss and causing him to pant loudly. His moans were now provocative whimpers, and PewDie could sense how hard he struggled now just to say his name, just to tell him to stop. It gave him that proud sense of superiority over Cry, for when it came down to it, the cold, indifferent American was the one whom was transformed into a squirming mess at the hands of his lover. This is what elated PewDie to the extreme.

With an amused grin, PewDie wriggled down so his mouth had better access to Cry's torso, starting very teasingly on his rather prominent left clavicle, licking across from it to give the other the same arousing treatment. He could practically feel the heart beating madly below his chest, Cry's abdomen rising and falling at a rapid, well-memorized pace in response to shallow breathing. He wanted to tell the man to relax, but he was enjoying himself too much really, and he knew the brunet secretly enjoyed the thrill. While his tongue left a slick trail over his upper chest, PewDie's hands lightly squeezed Cry's hips, his thumbs massaging the lower 'V' of his abdomen and occasionally sliding under the waistband of his jeans. He knew the anticipation was killing Cry, his hips bucking lightly in response to every stroke, but heck... Was PewDie ever one to take things quickly?

"Pewds... Please..."

PewDie smirked. Someone had managed to catch their breath. His following answer was curt, though.

"Nope."

"Don't just... Ah, oh fuck, I'm begging you-"

"Not yet."

"But-" Cry let out a long and very satisfying moan when the wet and nipping sensation travelled below to one of his nipples, his fingers digging into PewDie's sides as the blond started to tease him very intently there. "F-Felix! Stop!"

"Why?" He hummed seductively into Cry's skin, the low vibration spreading about his chest and spurring on another lengthy and aroused groan that made either of them shiver. Kissing him lightly, PewDie moved to the other side to commit the same, incisors teasing his flesh and his pale skin saline yet sweet under his tongue.

And Cry? Cry was rendered particularly hopeless now. He knew Pewds would do whatever it was he liked, and God damn the fact he liked to tease Cry so much. The need was killing him and the Swede knew it. It was much like him to carry on with this sort of thing, focusing on Cry whilst well aware that his form of pleasure would most definitely be coming about soon. Either way, he always won, and Cry couldn't do much for it. Nothing but endure, that is.

"You are... such a, ohh..." Teeth were being grazed over his ribcage, each canine scoring across the shallow depressions with an eruption of sensation, and yet the deadening of his mind. Some of the normal feeling had returned to his neck, but now his chest zinged with faint and sharp stings, wet and warm and it was sending him over the edge. The very tip of PewDie's tongue... he could feel it as it traced over the median line of his abdomen, the blond shuffling further downwards to dip just above the waistband of Cry's jeans before moving upwards again. And fuck, did that make the brunet want to cry.

"PewDie! Please!"

The blond lifted his head to look the flustered American in the eye, his expression falsely innocent. "What?"

"Stop doing that, please!"

"Doing what, Cry?" The Swede crooned, hoisting himself upwards again so he was face to face with his lover. Cry didn't know if interrupting him was the right thing to do, considering he seemed even further away from giving him what he wanted now. The brunet could only breathe heavily though, allowing PewDie to rest his forehead against his and to kiss him softly at times, but keeping each period brief and setting no temptation free. PewDie at least allowed him to calm a little, giving him time before he would speak.

"I... I hate it, so don't..."

"Hate what?"

Cry grimaced at the immediate interruption, nipping gently at his mouth when he felt PewDie's hands travel to his ass. "I hate it when you tease me, so..." He hesitated, seeing the light in his lover's azure eyes slowly shift to a darker, more sober tone. He trailed off, forgetting what it was he had to say. He knew that look in PewDie's eyes, he knew it well...

PewDie appeared unfazed, leaning forward to kiss Cry's ear, a low chuckle almost sending Cry reeling at the sweetness of his breath. "Tell me then, love..." He purred, nuzzling the ravaged skin of his neck with unprecedented care. "What would you like me to do? Tell me... anything," Cry was made aware of a lone hand sliding over his torso, down below, pausing at his navel before settling over, much to his relief and pleasure, the fly of his jeans. PewDie's fingers were poised, toying with the zipper there as he held Cry's wistful gaze and had him relay exactly what he wanted. "Anything that you want, I'll do it to you."

As if on cue, the stinging upon his chest intensified.

Cry's throat became parched. Finally, this is what he so desperately desired, and now... Now he just had to tell him...

"Pewds... Pewds, I wan-"

Just then, a rather loud buzzing resonated from where they lay, interrupting Cry's request. They both froze in question of the sound, the vibration soon ringing out again. That successive time though, PewDie held Cry's gaze in sudden realisation, a single eyebrow quirking.

"Cry, your ass is vibrating."

Cry shook his head, shifting a little as his ringtone ascended in volume, Three Days Grace splitting the heavy atmosphere. "My phone... It's in my back pocket."

PewDie sighed, hand slipping over and nudging the rectangular object out of the back of Cry's jeans, lifting it and answering it with a practiced hand. Cry was about to object, his mouth opening in protest, but PewDie's steely gaze quickly silenced him.

"Hello?"

Cry said nothing as his lover began to talk, PewDie's stunning eyes searching his own as he gradually realised who it was that dared interrupt his sexy time. His brusque tone rapidly sunk into that of a groan.

"What do you want, Toby?"

Cry couldn't help but roll his eyes in mirth of the caller too.

"What? No, of course you aren't interrupting anything..." PewDie distracted himself by playing with Cry's fringe, his fingers stroking the russet locks as he expressed obvious exasperation as to whatever the other man was saying. "No, my birthday isn't tomorrow... and no, I don't need a giraffe..." Cry snorted and shifted around restlessly, wondering just what the fuck Tobuscus was on about. "The heck, Toby! What do you want?"

There was quiet for a moment, whining on the other end.

"I never promised to live-stream with you, bro... What, no, Tobes... Not now..." PewDie's expression settled into one that was disgruntled, Cry leaning forward to nuzzle his neck in reassurance. God, that scent... "Ugh, how many hours do you want to go for? ...What?! No way... Hey! Toby Joe Turner, don't you dare fucking hang up on me-! Wha- Ah, fuck." PewDie lowered the phone, staring at the bright screen with something that closely resembled irritation. Cry leant up a little to glance at him curiously, then down at the now-locked phone as it was tossed lightly to the side.

"What did he want?"  
"He wants to stream with me, and right now apparently..." PewDie sighed again, heaving himself off of Cry and sitting on the edge of the bed to pull out and check his own phone. The loss of both warmth and weight had the brunet sitting up as well, albeit with some dizziness. Cry worriedly looked over at PewDie as the Swede moved to stand up.

"Uh... Where are you going, Pewds?"

"To stream," The blond turned around in swift realisation, giving somewhat of a guilty look when he recognized the disappointment etched across his boyfriend's face. "I'm sorry, Cry. We'll continue... maybe later, ok?"

But Cry wasn't going to so contently give in. He was on the verge of horrified, in fact. Surely PewDie wasn't just going to drop him off on that note...

"Why not now, Pewds? Can't you stream later?"

"I'd love to, but Toby wouldn't let me hear the end of it, so..."

Cry's following response was cold. "Does Toby really matter that much more?"

Pewdie hesitated, gazing down at Cry with a measured look before glancing away. "Well, no, but..."

"Felix..." Cry took the blond's warm hands, looking pleadingly up at him and only speaking again when he had his attention at the most. "What if I told you that..." Light, tantalizing patterns were drawn over the taller man's palms, making him shiver. Cry's deep cerulean eyes were vivid and hard to forget, but it was his husky words, tempting whispers to his ears that snagged PewDie heart and soul. "What if I told you that I hate it when you think that live-streaming matters more than me?"

PewDie said nothing for a while, registering and contemplating that one statement whilst staring Cry in the eyes. The American gazed back with just as much intensity, limpid blue straining against electric blue for the longest time, a direct and solemn challenge to the other until...

Cry smirked as the surface of the bed gradually sunk further downwards, PewDie crawling back on top of him and lowering his mouth onto Cry's with a wistful sigh. Cry kissed him back, delighted to find hands already poised at the waist of his jeans.

"Live-streaming can wait... but only because I hate everything about you."

_A/N: I actually researched for this. Lots of Google imaging for the neck and abdomen of the male body. Yum._

_But yeah, 50 favourites, 50 follows or 50 reviews, and a lemon follow-up is all yours. _

_All hail to the opinion of the fandom!_


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